The Wonderful World of Harry Potter Crossovers
by desertredwolf
Summary: Magical and mundane universes collide in this collection of Harry Potter crossovers! Nothing happens the same way twice and the world becomes all the more stranger. Harry meets Aslan! Hermione joins SHIELD? Why are there dinosaurs at Hogwarts? And how did Luna get to Middle Earth! All this and more in this collection ... so why not take a peek? There's something here for everyone!
1. The Chronicles of Narnia

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or The Chronicles of Narnia. All rights go to respective owners.**

* * *

 **The Call and The Answer**

Harry Potter was in trouble.

He was currently running away from his cousin Dudley and Piers Polkiss. Harry heard their shouts and taunts echo closer behind him. Spying an opportunity ahead, he cut a sharp corner around the back of the school and ran further into the alley. Hopefully, there would be a place he could hide.

The alley was barren and led to a dead end. As usual, luck was not on his side.

He felt tears begin to fall down his cheeks, and he hastily wiped them away. If his cousin saw him crying, it would only make things worse. Sniffling, Harry squared his shoulders and accepted his fate, when he suddenly noticed something out of the corner of his eye.

It was a wooden door.

Harry could've sworn that the door hadn't been there a moment ago, but there was no time to sit and ask questions. Darting forward, he yanked the door open — it was miraculously unlocked — and saw a large broom cupboard, the kind where the maintenance men stored their outdoor equipment. Racing inside, he closed the door behind him, and just in the nick of time, too.

"Hey! Where'd he go?"

Carefully, Harry began to back up, as he listened to the muffled voice of his cousin begin to argue with Polkiss. Suddenly, he felt himself brush up against a large rack with safety vests and raincoats hanging on it. Excellent, he could also hide behind those.

He pushed his way into the hanging coats. The angry muffled voices faded away. With every step, he became more hidden. But with every step, he quickly noticed that something was terribly wrong.

.oOo.

" _Come on_ , Lucy! At this rate, it will take forever to catch the Stag!"

Lucy laughed, despite the young man's teasing tone. She knew her brother well enough to know that the words he spoke had no malice. Edmund grinned at her, before urging his horse forward even faster. No matter how hard he tried, he could never beat her in a race — and she was determined to not allow today to be any different. A gentle nudge saw her horse charge quicker through the forest underbrush.

The burnished gold and crimson reds of autumn leaves blurred past, as Lucy chased after her brother. Soon, the pair were racing neck-and-neck. The horses leapt over a babbling brook in synchrony, the laughter of the riders echoing down the path.

"No fair!" Edmund shouted. He turned to look at her, his eyes lighting up with mirth.

Noticing an obstacle ahead — and perhaps feeling a little feisty — Lucy winked at him and ducked, laying flat across her horse's neck. The branch she narrowly dodged hit Edmund across the chest, popping him out of his saddle.

 _Oomph!_ He hit the ground, landing hard on his back. His chain-link armor protected him somewhat, but most likely didn't make the fall any softer. Lucy turned and rode her horse back. Trotting around him in tight circles, she watched as he coughed and struggled to sit up.

"Come on, Edmund," she said, using the same teasing tone he had just used on her. "You are acting like an old man! It will take _forever_ to catch the Stag at this rate!"

He glared at her and opened his mouth in order to respond, when they were both interrupted by the thundering sound of hoof beats. The pair looked up to see their two older siblings, Peter and Susan, arrive on the scene. Susan was scowling, while Peter simply looked amused.

"What is going on, you two?" Peter asked, laughing slightly.

"Oh," Edmund groaned from the forest floor, "you know me. I am just taking a moment to catch my breath." Lucy stifled a giggle, and Susan shot a look at her.

"Oh really?" the elder Pevensie sister said lightly. "And did Lucy help you come to make this decision?"

Lucy ducked her head and slid out of her saddle. She reached down and pulled her brother up.

"I am sorry, Edmund," she said. "You are not terribly hurt, are you?"

"If I can take it in jousting, I think I can handle this," he replied with a smile. Lucy let out a sigh of relief. "Although, I expect a rematch!"

"Why?" The surprise question came from Peter. "She will simply beat you again!"

The dry response had the siblings laughing once again. Edmund scowled, but quickly also laughed and joined in the good-natured teasing. Unexpectedly, Peter jumped from his saddle and unsheathed his sword, his eyes fixed beyond them. The serious look on his face saw the three remaining royals fall into line: Edmund drew his sword and took his place on Peter's left; Susan nocked an arrow and took a defensive stance to Peter's right; Lucy withdrew her dagger and covered their backs.

"What do you see, brother?" Edmund demanded.

Peter signaled for quiet and slowly walked toward an odd structure covered in ivy. It was thin like a tree, but had a lantern atop it. As strange as it was, it was apparently not what had his attention. A small bundle of cloth was on the ground near the structure. Kneeling beside it, the High King sheathed his sword, which saw his siblings follow suit.

"Lucy," Peter commanded, "your healing skills may be required."

Lucy dashed forward, Edmund and Susan hot on her heels. She knelt down on the ground next to the bundle to discover it was a young boy. She did not notice any obvious wounds, so there was no need to use her healing cordial. He seemed so small and vulnerable. Lucy felt for his pulse, as her siblings began to discuss the situation amongst themselves.

"What is he doing out here?"

"Who is he?"

"What is this structure? I seem to remember it…"

"Is he badly hurt?"

" **He will live."**

The last statement saw the Kings and Queens of Narnia turn as one. The golden autumn leaves seemed to shine all the brighter with the new arrival.

" _Aslan!_ "

The exclamation came, surprisingly, from Edmund. He raced forward, only to stumble in front of The Great Lion. He took a step back and then forward again. With the heightened emotion, it seemed like Edmund was trying to decide if he should hug him or bow. Aslan swiftly brought the indecision to an end by nuzzling his chest, and Edmund's arms naturally fell around him in a hug.

"Aslan!" Lucy shouted. She was thrilled to see him, of course, but was also unable to leave the young boy's side. Aslan appeared to innately sense her despair and padded forward. Edmund fell in step beside The Great Lion. The True King leaned over the boy and breathed in deeply.

"His name is Harry Potter," Aslan answered the unspoken question, "and he comes from your world, yet also not."

"Our world?" Peter replied. "You mean Narnia?"

"No," Aslan responded, emotion filling his voice. "I speak of England — and the future."

The proclamation saw all four siblings abruptly and vividly remember their previous life. Lucy began to feel frantic with worry. Their poor parents! They must be so worried! But before she could dash into the woods, in a mad attempt to find the door to the wardrobe, Aslan shook his head.

"Do not worry, child," the lion said gently, "for time moves differently. When you walk through the wardrobe, no time will have passed for you. Although the door is currently open, I ask that you remain in Narnia."

"You are saying that we have a choice?" Susan asked.

"There is always a choice, Queen Susan," he said, his voice grave. Lucy felt herself shiver; it was as if he was speaking of something that had a much deeper meaning. Susan swallowed and nodded her head.

"We are to care for him?" Lucy asked, although it was not much of a question. She was putting the pieces together rather quickly.

"There will come a time in the future that you all will return home," Aslan said softly. "But I ask that you forego that now, and instead care for him. He will be your heir, the Prince of Narnia, and one day will rule when you are gone."

"Why?" Peter asked. "Why can we not we send him home?"

"Just as you four had, and will have, things to learn, so will he," The Great Lion explained. "Just as you four have had to heal, so does he."

"Well, that settles it," Lucy declared. At the curious looks her three older siblings gave her, she smiled crookedly. "It does settle it, does it not? We have a new little brother to watch over."

Aslan nodded his head in her direction and rumbled his gratitude.

"Allow me to heal him, and then you may return to Cair Paravel."

Lucy nodded and gathered the tiny boy in her arms. She turned his still unconscious face toward Aslan. The King leaned forward and _breathed_ — just like he did to all of the statues of Narnians so many years ago.

And just like the petrified Narnians, little Harry Potter seemed to come to life.

.oOo.

 _Nineteen Years Later…_

.oOo.

King Harry the Brave stood on the western ramparts of Cair Paravel and watched the sun set over the sea. The last ten years had been challenging without his family to guide him, but he knew that it had been the Pevensie siblings' time to return home.

Just as he knew his time was quickly approaching.

Soft paw steps padded along the stone floor behind him. He felt a warm presence — the same one he distantly remembered from when he was eight and newly arrived in Narnia. Harry turned and knelt before the True King of Narnia.

"Rise, Harry the Brave, King of Narnia and Lord of Cair Paravel."

Harry stood and looked Aslan in the eye. He tried so hard to remain serious, like Susan, but quickly found himself grinning and hugging the lion.

 _Lucy was right. This is the best feeling in the world._

"It's nice to officially meet you, Aslan," Harry murmured, his voice cracking with emotion. "I don't remember much from our first meeting the woods, since I wasn't all there. It doesn't feel like enough, but I have to say it. _Thank you_ … for everything."

"You are welcome, child," Aslan said. "But you know why I am here." Harry nodded sadly.

"I have to go, don't I?" he replied. As the lion gave a grave nod, Harry felt his heart break. "But I don't want to go! This is my home. There's still so much to do."

"Harry, you have done much and learned so much more. But you must take that back to your world now. Just as the Pevensies defeated the White Witch here, so you must defeat the evil growing in your world."

"But they had you!" Harry exclaimed. "If I go, I'll lose the most important thing: You!"

Aslan chuckled and shook his mane, causing a wooden door to appear behind him.

"I am always with you, Harry Potter. In your world, I just go by a different name. You must learn it for yourself. And remember: Help will always be given to those who ask for it."

Harry fought the feelings of sadness and fear inside him. He knew Aslan was right, just as he also found leaving surprisingly bittersweet. Harry bowed to The True King and approached the door. He started to turn the doorknob before abruptly stopping.

"Will I ever come back?" he whispered hopefully.

"Once a King or Queen of Narnia," Aslan stated regally, "always a King or Queen of Narnia. I do believe we will see one another again."

And with that promise, Harry Potter — the one called Brave, King of Narnia, and Lord of Cair Paravel — returned to his home in England, the cupboard under the stairs no longer seeming quite so lonely.

 _(A piece of his heart, however, would forever remain in Narnia.)_

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 **Word count (not including title and author's notes): 1997**

Prompt ( _Crossover Month: Fantastic Fandoms! — The Golden Snitch_ ): Chronicles of Narnia

Name: Dessie / School: Castelobruxo / House: South  
Points Earned: 10  
Total Points: 10


	2. Agents of SHIELD

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Marvel or Disney. All rights go to respective owners.**

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 **A/N: Timeline for this is right after the fight with Nagini in Godric's Hollow and pre- Sokovia Accords and Inhumans revelations.**

* * *

 **084 (Sweetheart, I Promise It's Magic)**

Harry was drifting, lost in a haze of half-recollected memories and emotions. He wasn't quite sure where he was, but he supposed he wasn't dead. At least, he thought so. If befriending Luna during his fifth year — _Was that really only two years ago?_ — had taught him anything, it was that _anything_ was possible. It was rather peaceful … wherever he was. Wasn't death supposed to be peaceful?

Slight problem was that he didn't remember dying. He did remember a violent fight in a neglected cottage and shouting … as well as a snake? No, he had been fighting an old woman. Or was it a snake in a woman?

He tried to shake his head, almost as if to get rid of the memories floating back to the surface. He was starting to feel too much. His arms felt heavy; his _eyelids_ felt like they weighed a ton. All he wanted to be able to do was just rest and forget, floating in the mist.

" _Harry … Harry, you have to wake up. Please wake up! No! I don't want to go…"_

Harry groaned as a soft voice broke through the fog. He didn't want to wake up. Why the hell should he? It was time for a break. He had done _everything_ asked of him and more. No one could argue that he didn't deserve a rest. So, again, why should he do what the voice said?

But then again, maybe he should. The voice _did_ sound familiar. Maybe he should trust it…

"Mr. Potter, it is time to wake up."

 _That_ was new. Harry internally frowned at the unfamiliar voice. Where as the first voice was definitely female — and oh so familiar — this one was a man's voice. While it was not harsh, there was a definite undercurrent of authority. The mist in his mind began to recede.

"Mr. Potter," the voice repeated more firmly, "we need to speak with you. It is time to get up."

Harry forced his eyes open.

Blinking at the harsh light, he struggled to look around. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't this. He was laying in a standard white hospital bed in a sparse, steel grey room. Various tubes and lines connected his body to a wide array of machines. One of which had started to frantically beep.

"Stop glaring, FitzSimmons. He's fine, see?"

Harry looked to his left, toward the person speaking. The commanding voice he had hear moments ago belonged to a middle-aged man in a black suit. He stood near the door and, while he didn't appear to be very imposing at first glance, Harry found that the man held himself with such confidence that he instinctively knew who was in charge.

"He most certainly is _not_ fine, Coulson! His heart rate and blood pressure — both of which were already slightly abnormal — are skyrocketing! He needs a sedative _now_."

A furious petite woman in a white lab coat was scolding the man, who calmly let her vent. Harry wasn't paying too much attention to what was happening; his mind was still playing catch up. Sedatives. The woman had said "sedatives." That meant he wouldn't be able to stay awake. He needed to—

 _Hermione._

"Where is she!" Harry shouted. He tried to bolt upright, only to be held back down by straps on the hospital bed.

In hindsight, that might _not_ have been the best plan of action. The group — Harry suddenly noticed another man, also wearing a lab coat, and two other women — all snapped into action. The woman in the lab coat quickly ran to a drawer and pulled out a syringe.

"It's going to be alright, Mr. Potter," she said. He could hear the nerves in her voice. She stepped forward and, with practiced ease, moved the syringe toward one of the tubes that was connected to him.

"No! Stop!" Harry said frantically. He tried to pull away, only to remember that he had been restrained. "Please … my friend! I need to find my friend! She—"

There was a sudden crack of displaced air. The woman yelped and jumped back, as a certain bushy-hair witch materialized into existence next to Harry.

"Stop!" Hermione shouted. She held her wand, leveled and steady, at the group. Without taking her eyes of the stunned doctors, she grabbed Harry's hand.

One wrong move by any of the mysterious strangers, and he knew Hermione would Apparate them out of there. He wondered why she hadn't done that yet, but knew there must be a reason.

The entire room suddenly came to life and fell into chaos.

"Freeze!"

"Don't move!"

" _Don't touch him!_ "

"How—? I-I don't understand…"

The last one was the younger man in the lab coat. He was staring at Hermione in absolute confusion, as if his entire sense and understanding of the world had just fallen apart.

"Weapons down!" the man — _Coulson_ , Harry remembered — ordered his compatriots.

"Coulson…" a stern woman, dressed in black, warned. Her gun was trained on Hermione. Harry moved to reach for his wand, which was never too far away, but quickly remembered he didn't have anything of his with him.

"Not now, May," Coulson said. His attention was focused on Harry and Hermione, and he addressed them directly. "We don't mean you harm."

"Could have fooled us," Harry muttered. Hermione slapped his arm.

"You're not helping, Harry," she chastised, although he could hear the amusement in her voice.

"How did you do that!" the young man in the lab coat demanded again. "It was almost like…" He trailed off, as if he couldn't voice the thought aloud.

Coulson lowered his weapon, which had everyone else following suit. Hermione was the last to do so, discreetly flicking her wand toward the door as she brought it down to her side. She looked at Harry and raised an eyebrow. He nodded back at her.

Whatever her plan was, he would back her.

"Almost as if it was what?" she said, turning back to face the strangers. "Say it. It was almost like _magic_."

 _Well, that's one way to break the International Statute of Secrecy_ , Harry thought wryly.

The young woman in the lab coat scoffed.

"Magic's not real," she said condescendingly. "Right, Coulson? Just another 084 … teleportation or temporal displacement. But that's all theoretical. There's no one on the Index with this type of ability."

Temporal displacement? 084? All of these terms were going far over Harry's head, but Hermione was keeping up nicely.

"I don't think so, sweetheart," she said, matching the woman's attitude. "I promise it's magic. And we need your help."

"With what?" the last member of the group, a young woman with long brown hair, asked.

"We need help saving the world from an evil, magical megalomaniac, who has hidden soul fragments across Britain — perhaps even the world. He's gathering more followers everyday. Some are magical, like him, while others are vampires, werewolves, giants, and soul-sucking demons known as Dementors. He wants to kill pretty much everyone who doesn't prescribe to his Nazi-like beliefs. Did I miss anything, Harry?"

"No," he replied dryly. "I think that covers it."

Dead silence filled the room.

"So," Hermione prompted, after a minute, "can you help us or not?"

Coulson looked between them, searching their features. He must have seen something he liked or trusted because he offered his hand to them.

"Saving the world is our specialty," he said formally. "Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D."

* * *

 **Word count (not including title and author's note): 1244**


End file.
